


The Trial of The Terror

by xForEverythingElse (PrimaryScavQueen)



Series: Surrender, Dorothy [7]
Category: The Tick (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, canon-typical explosions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-23 06:23:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20238202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrimaryScavQueen/pseuds/xForEverythingElse
Summary: The Trial of The Terror begins





	The Trial of The Terror

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, ect, are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

The morning came too soon. 

It hadn’t helped that Dot spent the night focusing on Overkill’s arms wrapped around her as he slept and just how good it felt. When her alarm went off before the sunrise, she dressed in her normal clothes; the court was calling her as Dorothy Everest, daughter of Thomas Everest, victim of The Terror. Overkill was wearing his armor and she felt more than a little jealous, missing the comfort of hers. 

She opened her bedroom door at the same time Arthur and Tick were just outside in the hallway. Arthur blinked at her owlishly until his eyes drifted up behind her. Without turning, she knew Overkill was at her back. Then her brother frowned.

“Before you say anything,” Dot held up her hand, “We just slept. Nothing else happened.”

“Ha.” Arthur scoffed.

“Seriously, jackass.” Overkill growled, “I may be a vigilante but I still follow a code. This is still your mother’s house. I do have some rules.”

Arthur snorted and continued on down the hall. Tick stayed, studying them with unnaturally blue eyes. His antenna moved, seemingly feeling out the air. Then he smiled suddenly and grabbed them both into a rib crushing hug. 

While Overkill growled obscenities against her hair at being trapped into a group hug, Dot gave in, too tired to fight the embrace and rested her cheek against Tick’s chest. Touching him was always a series of contradictions. His armor—or was it his skin?—was hard and invulnerable yet didn’t hurt to be smashed into. Underneath the thick muscles, she could her his heart beating.

“Your auras are very harmonious this morning.” He declared in his usual chipper tone, “I like it.”

Then he released them and headed down the hall. Dot turned and looked at Overkill who was frowning deeply. 

“He’s really fucking weird.” 

Dot laughed softly and nodded in agreement, heading down stairs to join the others.

* * *

A few hours later, after a jet ride from AEGIS to the Netherlands, they arrived at The Peace Palace, home of The World Court also known as The International Court of Justice.

In any other circumstance where Dot would have found herself here in the beautiful city of The Hague, she might have enjoyed the sights, the incredible architecture, the view of the sea. Even the Peace Palace itself was particular stunning. Just outside the gates that surrounded the building, was a blue vestibule with a window that had a flame on the inside, visible from a circular window. WORLD PEACE FLAME was written in the stone. She assumed it was supposed to be the bright beacon of hope, of what the Peace Palace represented, but it made her feel cold. She looked up at the castle-esque building as they entered the vast grounds and tried to push down the feeling of dread that gripped her chest.

Dot felt a hand reach over and grip hers, and without looking she knew it was Arthur, his slightly sweaty palm giving him away. She squeezed his hand gently, not wanting to crush him with her newfound strength and looked over at him. 

Anxiety hemorrhaged from his features, tightened his eyes, made him frown. She longed to tell him everything would be okay. That they were worrying for nothing. But it was a lie and she couldn’t bring herself to offer him hollow comforts.

Rathbone led them inside, his brisk bowlegged strides making her want to wince. Inside the opulently designed building, people were everywhere, milling around, chattering. Reporters were being kept at bay behind a roped off section of the main hall. 

So many people.

So much potential collateral damage.

Inside the courtroom, it looked pretty standard. A long table for the fifteen judges, for the lawyers, and audience. Such an ordinary place for such a momentous moment.

Rathbone pointed out their bench, a long stretch of honey brown wood with a straight back and a beige cushion. Dot picked the end of the row; the mere thought of sitting in the middle felt too suffocating. 

After she took her seat, she bounced her leg restlessly, channeling the anxiety that nagged her.

Overkill inclined his head towards her, his lips close to her ear. “Are you alright?” He asked quietly.

She shook her head quickly. “No. I want to crawl out of my skin.” She murmured, “I wish I had my armor.”

“Me too.” He replied. 

Dot drew a breath and glanced at the watch on the wall to her right. The trial wasn’t due to start for another half hour. She had to get out of here, walk off some of the energy that had nowhere to go. When she to her feet, Overkill, Arthur, and Tick’s attention fell on her and she jerked her head out towards the door.

“Bathroom.” She said simply before striding from the room. 

Out in the hall, she navigated her way to the women’s bathroom and paused outside the door. With a shake of her head, she changed direction and found the stairs that led up to the clock tower and climbed them until she found the door that led out to the observation deck.

Outside, Dot breathed easier, the fresh air settling her nerves a bit. She walked to the railing and looked out sprawling green lawn, dotted with people and colorful tulips, the busy city stretching beyond the gates. Her heart rate began to slow to a normal rhythm and her muscles relaxed, leaving a dull ache in her shoulders.

Then the hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she heard a faint whistling. It was something she would have never caught months ago, before her powers developed when her senses were dull. The sound echoed and she couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. Until there was a thunderous collision below her and she was flung over the railing. She screamed, feeling like she was falling forever, watching in horror as three more missiles hit the building. Pain exploded when she hit the ground, unable to move, only able to watch helplessly as the rest of the building collapsed.

Dot was aware of the screaming spectators all around and it forced her to slowly push herself to her feet. Her pulse was in her ears and her vision went blurry but she willed her legs to move, heading to the rubble that was once the court room. Everything was still and her stomach turned as she stumbled and crawled across piles of stone, hands and limbs sticking out from some of them.

Her heart stopped as she found her family. Her mother was sitting in a circle of Walter’s arms, looking dazed. She was bleeding, blood trailing from her forehead and nose, covered in dust. Walter looked the same, his dark eyes wide.

“Tick covered us.” He told her, his eyes flashing over to Tick who was frantically digging through the debris, throwing large rocks like they were nothing.

“Arthur!” He cried, “Arthur!”

A burst of energy hit Dot and she darted to his side, helping him dig. _No, no, no. Please let him be okay. Please, please, please._Then she saw his suit sleeve, his bloodied hand, and it took all her concentration for her legs not to give out.

“Tick! Tick! Here!” She bit out.

He was instantly at her side and piece after piece, uncovered Arthur. But Arthur wasn’t alone. Overkill’s body was covering the majority of it.

But they were both still.

Arthur. Overkill.

They were…

They were…dead.

Her legs gave out and her world narrowed on them. Dimly she was aware that Tick was crying. No. Not just crying. He was wailing, a mournful cry as he gently lifted Overkill and placed him on his back, before he picked up Arthur’s limp body and cradled him in his arms. Dot’s eyes flicked over to Overkill and she carefully pulled off his mask. Blood colored under his nose, the corner of his mouth, his ears. His cybernetic eyes were dark. Darker than she had ever seen. And it hit her it was because he was no longer alive to power them.

“This is what your stupid attempts at justice gets you.”

The booming voice brought Dot’s attention and turned to see The Terror standing beside the Peace Flame. In one hand, he held a button, in the other, a sledgehammer. Tossing the thin remote to the ground, he brandished a sledgehammer and destroyed the fixture and stomped out the flame with his boot…

A peal of laughter rang high and Dot jolted with a blink, finding herself back up on the observation deck. The Peace Palace was whole and untouched. Which meant.

Oh fuck.

Which meant that the event was about to happen. Dot turned on her heel and ran down the stairs with her inhuman speed, finding the first fire alarm she came across and pulled it. Sirens began to go off and an announcement sounded through the building about evacuating.

One tragedy avoided.

But The Terror was still out there. Still ready to bomb the building. Dot inhaled deeply and replayed the event, he had been out front. But would she be able to get there in time to intercept him. _Run._

Her eyes snapped open as she heard a soft female voice at her ear, so close it drown out the droning wail of the sirens. She looked around the corridor and found she was alone. Maybe she had just imagined it. _He’s coming._

The voice spoke again and this time, Dot just listened to it. She hurried outside and ran towards the wrought iron gates, running until everything around her was a blur. Where?

_His taxi is coming from the east._

Well, that was oddly specific. Helpful, but oddly specific.

By the time, she reached the Peace Flame, The Terror was, sure enough, getting out of a taxi. She saw his reaction to the large crowds of people outside, the sounds of the sirens that still rang in the air. Heard him curse. Then she saw his attention land on her. Her stomach turned, sharply remembering her dream with crystal clear clarity.

“_You._” His voice rasped, “I know you.” His gold eyes gleamed bright, “You’re that cup of piss’s sister. Dorothy Everest.” He moved close to her and her hands curled into fists, getting ready to strike, “Did you ruin my plans?”

“Yes, I did, asshole.”

“I’m going to make you regret that decision.” The Terror’s voice was a gruff, angry promise.

Suddenly there was a sting at the back of her neck and something flooded her veins, running painfully hot. Dot’s body grew heavy and she felt herself sinking. _Don’t fear. _That voice whispered as Dot fought to cling to the edge of consciousness. _The end is coming._

_What end?_ Dot wondered. 

But she didn’t get an answer as the darkness overcame her and dragged her down into its depths.


End file.
